"A few years, I'll bet," Zoe continued. "And this--" she waved a hand across the scene before us, construction zones everywhere, "--probably doesn't look very familiar. But it is to me. This is where I make my living, and I know every back alley, every shortcut, every hiding place."
"We'll manage," Clay said, fingers closing around my arm.
"With your superhuman sense of smell? Works great in the forest, I'm sure. Or in a quiet neighborhood. But here? Take a good sniff, professor. Smog, exhaust, roofing tar. It would help to have someone who doesn't need scent to track."
I looked at Clay, but his gaze had moved on, scanning the street. He was considering Zoe's words but, even more, looking for the zombie, knowing that every moment we stood here arguing was a moment in which our pursuer could decide this wasn't a good time or place to attack.
"Do what you want," he said finally. "Just stay out of our way."
The problem now was where to lead the zombie so we could kill him. We were downtown in the middle of a workday. I suggested returning to the university campus.
"Too open." Clay squinted up the street. "The museum would be good. An enclosed building, probably not too busy with this cholera thing. There'd be lots of quiet places for you to lure him into."
"But then you have the problem of admission," I said. "I doubt he carries much walking-around money."
"If that's the only problem, you're in luck today," Zoe said. "All the cultural centers are offering free admission for the rest of the week. A tourism bonus in light of the water problems. I was going to visit the art gallery this afternoon, to check out a few business opportunities."
"The museum it is," Clay said.
We headed for the Royal Ontario Museum, just a block up University. As we walked, I called Antonio and told him we had one of the zombies in our sights. He and Jeremy would hightail it to Cabbagetown to await delivery.
I hung up as we reached the front steps, then I realized Clay was no longer beside me, but a dozen feet back, glowering at a construction board.
He waved at the board. "What the hell are they doing to the museum?"
"A total overhaul," I said. "Creating a revitalized cultural an
d architectural landmark for Toronto."
"Overhaul? From that picture, it'll look like it was hit by a goddamn glacier."
"I know," Zoe said. "Isn't it gorgeous? Did you see the front? They're going to have the dinosaurs right there, so you can see them from the street. Wonderful. Although, if they're going to put artifacts in the window, I'd personally prefer something more portable."
Clay shook his head and strode up the museum steps.
Once inside, we split up. Past experience told us our zombie friends wouldn't come out while I was surrounded by bodyguards, though Clay would stay with me for as long as possible.
We'd barely made it to the second-floor landing when my phone vibrated. I checked the display. Nick.
"She's coming," he said when I answered.
"She?"
"Think so. Zoe says it's a she. Hard to tell under all that clothing."
"Be on the lookout for her partner then," I said. "They've played this game with us before."
"Tag-team stalking."
"Exactly."
When I hung up, Clay said, "Rose?"
I nodded.
"Shit." He glanced at the exit, frown deepening to a scowl.
"You'd prefer a knife-wielding thug to an aging hooker?"